


'til every little piece is gone

by kadma



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-04-01 08:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13994325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadma/pseuds/kadma
Summary: Monika thinks she's prepared, but her heart sinks like a stone into a bottomless well when Sayori brings along a boy.Written for Silence in my@genprompt_bingo card.Written for Mind Games in my@trope_bingo card.





	1. Chapter 1

Monika craves the quiet. Every time she's forced to stop existing, the other girls filling up the screen and expunging her from the scene, she's dragged into the hell of blinding colours and inhuman screaming, ceaseless static and the noise -- so much noise --

The only pause, the only sweet relief is to _be._ To be there, in the corner; to be delivering scripted dialogue, to be shifting from one pose to another. To take up space -- to push the others off-screen and into what their minds know only as a void, a silent empty non-existence.

Oh, how she _envies_ them.

There is one other instance of release, one more well of quiet she must drink from only sparingly -- and that takes all of her self-control, not to indulge and drown out her own fears and that forbidden knowledge burning holes in her mind.

"Are you sure that you're...? I mean--"

Monika rests a finger upon those trembling lips.

"Shh," she murmurs, before sinking into the soft uncertainty of Sayori's kiss.

It begins, like most good things, by accident. They pore over Natsuki's half-scribbled out poem, clunk heads, brush cheeks and the corners of each other's lips. The President and the Vice President staying a little longer to tidy up club affairs doesn't rouse suspicion -- and when they're alone, but beside one another, Sayori is always careful, asking again and again if this is what Monika wants to do.

Monika smiles a creased and tired smile.

"Yes," she says, voice lower than a whisper. "I want this more than anything."

The first time, the second time -- she believes it. Hunched in the closet with Sayori's back pressing into volumes of manga and textbooks, her soft noises of pleasure and excitement and the rustle of their uniforms and the light wet smacks of their open-mouthed kisses: these are noises she knows, noises she wants. This is no silence, no eternal slumber -- but it's a respite, a way to lose herself in something other than her own bottomless despair.

Sayori believes this is love. She cares about Monika, she whispers, keeping her voice soft the way Monika asks her to. She values Monika. She's happy, and she's happy to make Monika happy. Monika accepts these terms: sounds of assent when Sayori throws around that word, picture-perfect smiles when Sayori giggles after biting her own lip.

They kiss and touch. They stroke and sigh and act like they know what love is. All the while Monika _is_ , and therefore, she is free-- 

* * *

Monika thinks she's prepared, but her heart sinks like a stone into a bottomless well when Sayori brings along a boy. A friend, she says, nervously eyeing Monika, a childhood friend. As if that makes a difference. As if Monika can change the future she's been expecting -- a future in which she is a force of destruction.

"Please help me," she tries, once she puts the pieces together. There must be a way out, a place away from the screaming.

There is no response.

There is never a response.


	2. Chapter 2

Piano practice teaches Monika more than just how to manipulate the keys. She sings; she tries to write lyrics. She enjoys the sounds she creates. She pretends these are the only sounds in the world.

For a few days, the relief is sweet, a salve against the recurring burning knowledge. But she's playing more than the piano -- her head fills with numbers and letters, command prompts and input values. It's creeping up on her, the terror; it's saturating the code that creates them all.

* * *

Sayori spends more and more time with her friend; Monika doesn't mind, _much_ , because they're sharing poems. Natsuki and Yuri require her attention. Her time with Sayori may be essential to her well-being, but the others are part of the club, and she wants them to feel valued, too.

Yuri's poem is adequately flowery in language and vivid in imagery. Natsuki writes simply, but the stinger present in her personality translates onto paper well. Is Monika that transparent, that two-dimensional as well? Is her own writing style, in the melancholic, experimental freeform poem on her epiphany, depicted so crudely to others?

"Monika? A-Are you alright?" Yuri's voice ripples with concern. Natsuki, on the other hand, huffs and folds her arms.

"If it's that bad, Monika, you can tell us, okay? I don't know about Yuri but _I_ want to improve."

"Yes, I agree... I'll try my best to listen."

Monika locks her jaw, and looks, if only for a brief moment, into their eyes. Nothingness. No knowledge. Not even a flicker of doubt or unease. She sighs, shaking her head.

"Ahaha, it's not that at all. Both of your poems are great, showing off the strengths of your preferred writing styles. I'm just spacing out a little today, so I really had to focus on reading, you know?"

Yuti's demeanour slackens, like she's been holding herself tense whilst waiting for Monika's comments. It's Natsuki who snatches back her poem first: she smirks, puffing out her chest and almost strutting.

"Well, duh. I knew that."

"I think... Y-You may have been a little worried, Natsuki."

"So what if I was? Monika's the one who's spacing out! If she keeps it up, she's going to end up as ditzy as Sayori."

They turn to look at the contently chatting duo: the young man's eyes sparkle when he looks at Sayori, the corners of his lips rising when his teasing nudges bring out peals of Sayori's laughter. The young man has something she wants more than Sayori, more than the silence. He's the disruption: he's the catalyst. He's the avenue to the mystery of her agonising existence.

"Monika, help me!" Sayori's shout pulls her from her thoughts. "He's being a meanie!"

She smooths over some trivial disagreement, guides them through another asinine tip of the day, and encourages them to write something for tomorrow. It's not until the classroom is empty and the noise creeps in that she realises she never shared her poem with Sayori.


	3. Chapter 3

A few days later, in the middle of exchanging poems, Sayori's friend pauses, opening and closing his mouth like he's not sure how to begin. Monika is patient. Eventually, he gets it out: Sayori's been avoiding him, and he's worried about her weird behaviour. In the guise of a good club president, Monika promises to look into it.

Sayori murmurs heartfelt confessions, tales of fear and woe and confusion. It starts suddenly: noise, screeching and grinding and shrill colours in her eyes her ears her head it hurts it hurts it hurts _so fucking much_ \--

"What should I do, Monika?"

The violence is so loud that she can't hear anything more, so she delivers her line with her lips pressed to the shell of Sayori's ear.

"Kill yourself."

The silence hits her, like a slap to the face. Sayori doesn't look up. She nods to herself. She runs her hands over one another.

Monika smiles with relief and returns to the club duties that beckon her away.

* * *

When it all comes to pass, her dirty-tasting quip and the cold feeling of absence, she puts on the sickly smile and ushers in the festival preparations. But it's over the second she exists in the club room on the morning of the festival. She knows this. She made the choice. Now, she has to follow through.

If only the silence wasn't so piercing, so absolute. No rustling of paper when she adjusts the flyers. No footsteps when the boy walks in. No voices: they communicate with written words, poised on a screen just beyond her reach.

Sayori for silence -- a fair price, a step in the direction of truth.

Monika swallows hard.

This is the most difficult thing she has to do; from now on, she'll write herself a new reality, a road to travel with a satisfying ending as its destination. From now on, it gets easier. Monika has to believe that it gets easier.


End file.
